


To Be Mortal

by AlphaKantSpell



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Aging, Immortality, Kinda, M/M, Nightmares, Old Married Couple, Older Characters, they're not married so much as 'ehh I've spent 50 years with you no reason to leave now'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlphaKantSpell/pseuds/AlphaKantSpell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was horrible,” Ling said when he’d gathered his breath.  “You died.  I was immortal and you died.” </p>
<p>Ling has nightmares and Ed comforts him the best he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Mortal

**Author's Note:**

> In response to "Nothing Gold" by Rydia in which Ling has immortality and Ed does not. It ripped open my heart and made me actually cry so of course I had to write something to make myself feel better. Please go read that story -- it manages to conjure every fear one might have associated with this trope and then some. The characters are written so well it's almost canon.

 

Ed woke to fevered kisses, Ling marking his way half across Ed’s chest before he was coherent enough to protest.  Ed liked kisses.  Ling was a complete sap about them, silky things that soothed sore muscles.  These were not.  Each kiss had a bite to it, a lonely sting more like Greed’s hungry lips than Ling’s.  It wasn’t his usual style and that was what got Ed up more than anything.

            “What’s up?” he asked.

            Ling sucked a mark onto his collarbone.  Ed’s breath hitched and his hands went to Ling’s hair, combing it with smooth motions.  Ling melted into the touch, lying as much of his body on Ed as possible.  Ea was smothered with the distort Emperor, limbs shaking like a coil about to snap. 

“Hey, hey Ling.  Come on now, what’s wrong?”

In response Ling pressed his face at the crook of Ed’s neck.  He breathed.  Laid still for another breath, quite and still to track Ed’s _qi._   Ed was used to this habit.  Whenever he was upset Ling would press into Ed like this and hold him till one of them stopped shaking.  Moving his hands to smooth Ling’s stiff shoulders, Ed looked to the Amestrian-style clock he’d required be in their room.  2:23 am.  Early.  Too late.  It didn’t matter it was dam dark. 

“Come on, out with it.  You know you’ll feel better when you get it off your chest,” Ed encouraged in a voice that erred on the soft side of chiding.  Although neither man liked sharing their hurts they’d accepted the truth in those words over the years.  It simply wasn’t worth bringing such distress to their bedroom, even if all they did was sleep in it anymore. 

And it wasn’t like they were broadcasting their woes to the world.  In this room they weren’t Emperor of Xing or Hero of Amestris.  It was just Ed and Ling.  Just them.

“It was horrible,” Ling said when he’d gathered his breath.  “You died.  I was immortal and you died.”

Squeezing Ling, Ed accepted each frenzied kiss Ling offered.  It was a reoccurring nightmare of Ling’s, a life where Greed stayed within him and the Philosopher’s Stone granted him the curse of immortality, living well beyond anything he cared for.  The dream didn’t happen very often and Ling didn’t always remember the details but it had been occurring since they were teens.  The panic was always the same.  If Greed hadn’t detached from Ling on the Promised Day, if Father hadn’t killed him then Ling’s dream would have been their reality.       

“You died too soon,” Ling lamented, still caught in the poison of his dream.  “You died like your mother.  You died, Ed.  You died and there wasn’t anything I could do.  I was stuck in the body of a fifteen year old and you died.”

Illness, assassination, an accident, old age; it didn’t matter the variation.  Each death was tragic and each death left Ling in the same endless sorrow of an immortal life.  Fingers with biting nails dug into Ed.  Ling wanted him close, closer than even flesh to flesh.  He wanted to hold tight to Ed, pull him into the void where Greed had been and keep him there where Death would never find him. 

With a fond smile and gentleness Ling was always surprised by, Ed coaxed Ling’s fingers open.  He pulled the hand to his lips and kissed each, paying special attention to a scar on his left knuckle.

“Remember when you got this one?”

“Yes,” Ling said automatically.  They’d been through this ritual before, recounting all of Ling’s injuries accumulated over the years.  Homunculi could not get scars. 

“It was so stupid,” Ed grinned through his teeth.  “You cut yourself on a bottle.  Remember?  It was when we were in our teens and you wanted to try one of my Amestrian beers but you weren’t expecting the bottle to be so slick and dropped it.  Man, the look on your face!  I’d never seen you so embarrassed before.  You went to pick it up the pieces before an attendant could and ripped your hand.”

Ed kissed the scar again.  Even now Ling could feel heat of humiliation from that moment.  And like then Ed was laughing with such affection Ling couldn’t stay upset.

“The healers did a pretty good job but they couldn’t get everything.”  Kissing his scar one last time, Ed moved up his arm to the hollow of Ling’s throat.  A spider web of scars marred his skin, thin and sharp as they day they were made.

“And then there’s this one.  Assassination attempt from one of your brothers.  We were twenty nine.  I know because that was the same day Al called to tell us his wife was pregnant.  I was so happy I didn’t notice one of your bozo guards was off until almost too late.”

Ling remembered that day too.  He remembered it with gasping breath and a bloody throat.  He remembered it because Ed was so happy, radiant and bouncing on his feet at his brother’s announcement.  Ed kissed like they had when they were kids, all emotion and no patience.  He’d skipped off to call Al again when the wire was wound around Ling’s throat.  No one had expected such an attack in broad daylight, in front of the guards and the Hero of Amestris.

If not for Lon Fon Ling would have died, strangled by something simple as wire and his brother’s stronger arms.  Ed rushed forward but the distance was too far.  Without his alchemy he was without a proper ranged weapon.  Ling was pulled back, wire cutting deep into his throat as his arms reached for Ed.  In a second it would be over.  He didn’t care about fighting back at the time – he just wanted to touch Ed.

Lon Fon killed the assailant with a knife to the back of his neck.  He fell, dragging Ling with him.  Bleeding out, unable to speak past his wound, Ling reached for Ed again but was run to the medical wing of the palace. 

Once again Ling’s healers tended to him and reverted most of the damage.  Not once had Ed left him, reading as Ling recovered and went through speech lessons to relearn how to use his vocal cords.  Ling’s voice had never been the same, rougher than before and quieter.  It was juxtaposition to his smooth face and general elegance.  Ed loved it. 

His rough voice stroked every note in Ed’s spine and the quiet meant he had to press close to hear him.  Not once did Ling ever feel shame in his wound or the day he’d almost died.  Ed wouldn’t allow it.      

Ed kissed every inch of Ling’s rosary of scars.  Pulling the man’s body to him, Ed nipped at his neck and throat, turning Ling to get at his back.  He traced the other scars and nicks Ling’s body bore, each one a memory of how ling was alive and mortal.  Ed’s hands went to his hair, massaging Ling’s scalp.

“You’re getting grayer by the day,” he hummed, kissing Ling’s temple where his locks were silver.  Ling _humphed_ at that.  “Come on old man, don’t be such a snot about it.  At least you age better than me.”

Ed was laughing but Ling disagreed regardless.  Leaning up, Ling caught Ed in a kiss, simple and quiet.  “You’ve aged fine, Ed.” 

While Alphonse’s jaw had grown out and resembled their father Ed had taken after their mother.  Ling had seen the family photograph only once but it was enough to recognize Ed’s cheekbones, the way his smile tilted and the shape of his eyebrows.  Over the years Ed had grayed and wrinkled.  His skin tanned from his journeys in his youth, exploring as much of the world as he could.  He’d become thicker than Ling, shoulders broader over time.  As the years went on it had become harder for Ed to move around with his automail.  Ed’s slow decomposition was a constant nightmare of Ling’s but as Ed kissed his temple again all his anxiety eased out like a sigh.

Ling was not without problems associated with aging.  His bones protested sitting or standing for long periods, which made his work as the Emperor a real pain with never-ending meetings.  Just recently the healers had forbid him from spicy food, insisting that it was harming his _qi_ close to his heart.  Ling’s skin started to show signs of aging too, spots here and there where they hadn’t been before and ceases that would never smooth out.  Ling was not immortal, not in the smallest of terms.  He aged and he would die, just as anyone and everyone else.          

“There we go, now you’ve got it,” Ed teased, hands moving back to Ling’s shoulders.

He took his time.  His motions were gentle, both hands firm as they massaged his skin.  Ling felt a thrill go through him when he thought of what those hands had accomplished, monstrous and great things created through alchemy.  He’d even punched a god in the face.  Beat him to the ground with these hands alone.  Ed couldn’t transmute anymore; hadn’t since the Promised Day years ago.  All the same Ling _wanted_ him to.  He wanted just as he wanted _him_ back.  Ling loved Ed with an absolute passion but the man couldn’t fix the rift in Ling where Greed used to be. 

“I miss him,” Ling said after a while, Ed laying on Ling’s chest with his nose in his crook for a change.  “I’m glad I’m not immortal.  Mortal wounds can kill me and if not that, age will but I am grateful that I can grow old with you.”    

Ed squeezed him and sleepily noted what a sap he was being.

“But I miss him.”  He missed Greed.  Ling didn’t speak of it often, usually only when he’d woken from one of his nightmares but the loss of the homunculus was a wound that refused to close.  Ling would never insinuate such a thing to Ed but on his own he likened it to a missing limb.  He felt unbalanced without Greed.  The homunculus had been a constant presence, a voice and companion who knew his soul inside and out.  It was impossible to be so close to another being like that.  Greed had been Ling’s brother, his captor, an intimate, his friend, his opposite, his same.  Ling was Greed and Greed was Ling.  And now Ling was a one-sided coin.

“I know.  I miss him too.”  Ed’s voice was quiet but Ling heard it.  His hand went to Ed’s hair and cupped the base of his skull, thatching his fingers through the gold there.  “Greed might have been a real bastard but he was a pretty good guy, huh.  Plus he saved your sorry ass so I’ve got him to thank for a Bingo buddy when we get _real_ old.”    

Unimpressed, Ling still laughed.  Both of them would die one day, by assassination, accident, or old age.  But it would be both of them.  Ling didn’t need to worry about being trapped in an ageless body.  He and Ed were together and no twisted alchemy would come between that. And like Ed without his leg, Ling survived fully and happy even without Greed.  Ed would never be as close to him as Greed had been but Ling wouldn’t choose anyone else to be mortal with. 


End file.
